The ship groaned.
Its once-sleek hull, striped with red and black paint, now dragged along the rocky coastline like a wounded beast. The second sail had been swallowed by a gust half an hour ago. The main sail was flapping like a wounded bird. The anchor — gone, snapped and lost to the sea. And worse, the lower deck was quickly turning into an aquarium, salty water sloshing past crates and barrels, soaking what little provisions they had left.
The Black Cat Pirates were tired. Drenched. Battered. Morale was a shipwreck of its own.
At the prow of the ruined vessel, Jango stood tall — or rather, the man they thought was Jango.
Usopp, cloaked in a tight-fitting suit, signature hat, and hypnotic glasses, held his arms behind his back, chin tilted just enough to exude confidence. In truth, he was exhausted. His feet were sore, his mouth dry, his arms shaking under the pressure of keeping up the act.
But he stood like he owned the world.
"Men!" he bellowed. "Abandon ship!"
The crew blinked.
"But we—"
"NOW!" Usopp barked, pointing dramatically to shore. "This ship is compromised! Do you want your bones to rot in this briny tub?! Or do you want VICTORY?!"
That did it.
One by one, soaked pirates leapt into the shallows, dragging themselves onto the beach like drowned rats. Barrels floated beside them. Planks. Swords. One man held a single sandwich above his head, crying. They'd lost everything. But they still had orders.
And Usopp — no, Jango — was in charge.
The Nyaban Brothers, Sham and Buchi, stalked toward him with murder in their eyes. But Usopp didn't flinch.
"You've got something to say?" he asked, voice pitched into Jango's distinct hypnotic drawl.
They growled.
"This ain't the plan. The ship's wrecked. We're in the middle of nowhere!"
"Take it up with Kuro," Usopp snapped, crossing his arms. "I didn't steer us wrong. He left me in charge. That was the order. Or maybe you two just wanna argue with the man who clawed apart an entire marine crew in under five minutes?"
That made them pause. It was a gamble. But a good one.
Most of the crew nodded. The order had come from Kuro, right? Jango was always Kuro's second. It made sense.
Usopp pressed the advantage, sweeping a hand to the towering trees beyond the beach.
"This," he declared, "changes nothing! So the ship is down — SO WHAT?! We are not the Black Cat Sailors. We are PIRATES! And this forest—" he pointed again "—is our alleyway, our cover, our blade in the dark!"
The crew slowly stood straighter.
Usopp stepped forward, voice rising with passion, "We are going to carry out this raid as planned. In silence. With grace. With precision! We stay in formation, in groups. We are shadows. Ghosts! We have lost too much to fall now."
They were nodding now.
Even Sham and Buchi were hesitating.
Usopp narrowed his eyes behind the glasses.
"Kuro will have our hides if we fail. All of them. Even mine. I didn't survive this wreck just to DIE before my final dance-off!"
Silence.
Then someone whispered, "...He's right."
"I ain't dying for nothing…"
"Let's move."
Usopp's chest swelled. For a brief moment, he felt like a real captain. But only briefly. Because now came the part that was going to hurt.
"Let's go, men!" he cried out.
He took one big step forward—
And the ground gave out beneath him.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
THUNK.
Gone. Vanished into a patch of grass. A pit. Deep. Silent.
"JANGO!"
The Black Cats rushed to the edge, staring down into darkness. They couldn't see anything!
"BOSS?!"
"WHERE IS HE?!"
"GET A ROPE!"
They scrambled to tie something together, desperate, calling for their commander. But there was no sound. No motion. Only the echo of that scream and the chill silence that followed.
Usopp, twenty feet below, curled in the fetal position, barely holding in a snort.
He stayed completely limp, forcing his breathing shallow. This was the moment. The act of death. The bait. He could hear their voices crack, the panic building.
Good. He let them mourn. Let them believe.
When enough time passed, and the attention above had shifted back to arguing over leadership, Usopp moved.
His hand found the wall. His fingers trailed over the packed dirt until he found what he was looking for — a small latch.
Click.
A square of dirt gave way, revealing a hidden tunnel. He slipped inside.
No more suit. No more hat.
Within moments, he was Usopp again — but not the liar. This was the ghost. The sniper. Camouflage wrapped around his limbs. A pouch of round stones hung at his side. And in his hands, a slingshot as familiar as his own heartbeat.
His eyes closed for a moment. He listened.
Above, the Nyaban Brothers had taken command.
"We follow Jango's orders. Move through the forest. Stay together!"
Good. Let them walk into the maze. Because this wasn't just forest. This was his domain.
Fifteen minutes later, The Black Cat Pirates met hell.
It started small. One of the scouts stepped off the trail and screamed as the ground swallowed him. A net. Then another tripped and set off a rigged rope that flung him twenty feet into a tree, cracking his ribs.
Panic. Shouting. They tried to group up.
Too late.
One by one, they fell.
Swinging logs, thorn traps, pressure spikes, slingshot pellets to the eyes, knees, joints. The screams came and vanished in the woods like whispers swallowed by wind. Those that ran alone were lost. Those that stayed in packs were picked apart.
From the branches above, Usopp struck and vanished. A true phantom. He never aimed to kill. But he didn't have to. A man with a shattered kneecap wouldn't be standing in anybody's way.
Smoke bombs here. Deafening powder there. Psychological warfare. Some men swore they saw ghosts. Others thought they heard Jango's voice echoing through the trees.
By the end of it, only two figures remained, standing in a narrow clearing, breathing hard. The Nyaban brothers. Blood on their clothes. Mud on their boots. Claws drawn.
Branches swayed above, but no wind whispered through them. Sham's feline eyes darted across the undergrowth, his curved claws twitching at his sides. Buchi, the larger of the two, trudged behind him, huffing. His ears twitched at every creak, every crack.
"Something's out here," Buchi muttered. Nervously shaking with horrified eyes. It was night in a forest like this!
Sham narrowed his eyes which showed as much fear as his brother's. "Keep your guard up!"
They stood back-to-back in a clearing now, surrounded by towering trees and creeping vines. The shadows were thick here, like they had weight. The kind of place where you'd hear your name whispered by nothing at all.
"What is this?" Buchi growled. "Where are the others?"
Sham snarled, crouching low. "Dead? Trapped? I don't know. This isn't a forest. This is a battlefield. Somebody planned this! We've been played!"
Suddenly—snap!
Something above. A branch breaking. Buchi raised his head—too late.
THWIP—CRACK!
A pellet slammed into his temple, exploding with chalky white powder. He roared and staggered back.
"GAH—MY EYES!"
Sham snarled, slashing wildly into the trees.
"SHOW YOURSELF!"
And from the shadows… a voice answered. A familiar one. Not Jango. Not quite Usopp. Yet Something in-between.
"Did you know…" the voice echoed from tree to tree, almost playful, "...cats hate getting wet? But they hate being toyed with even more, huh?"
Sham spun toward the sound. Nothing. His back felt sweaty and his fangs were grinding from how scary this situation was.
A second voice. Same tone. Same teasing edge.
"You're a long way from your crew. From your boss. You're not predators in here…"
"You're prey."
TWANG!
Another slingshot fired. This time, from below. A tripwire snapped, releasing a spring-loaded board that catapulted a crate filled with smoke powder into the clearing.
BOOM!
A white cloud swallowed the area whole.
"BASTARD!" Sham yelled. "COME OUT AND FIGHT!"
And then—thud.
Sham stumbled back, clutching his arm — bleeding from a small puncture wound. A sharp pebble had embedded just below his shoulder.
"AGH!"
Buchi charged blindly through the smoke, flailing. "I'LL CRUSH YOU!"
But nobody was there anymore. He was in the trees again. Camouflaged. Silent. Watching. Breathing. Calculating.
Flashback: One Week Ago
Usopp had stood at this very edge of the forest, hammer in hand. Behind him, piles of rope, logs, broken pots, rubber bands, and every last ounce of scrap metal Syrup Village could spare.
The plan wasn't to win through strength. It was to survive and to break the opposition.
Back to Now
"YOU COWARD!" Sham screamed, swiping through brush.
"You're right," came the whisper, "I am a coward."
TWANG!
Another stone. This one hit Buchi directly in the throat. He gagged and dropped to one knee.
"But sometimes…" Usopp's voice came again, closer this time, "...cowards build one hell of a trap."
A rustle. A shadow.
Sham lunged — only to slam into a swinging net. It yanked him up into the air, claws flailing.
"ARGH! LET ME DOWN!"
From behind the net, Usopp finally stepped forward. No disguise. Just Usopp.
The real him.
He raised his slingshot and took aim at Buchi, who was stumbling to his feet, blood running from his mouth and a wild look in his eye.
"You're gonna regret messing with the Black Cat Pirates you insect!" he bellowed as he charged.
"You're nothing without your tricks!"
Usopp stood his ground.
At the last second, he ducked and fired directly into the ground. A burst of pressure triggered the trap beneath Buchi's feet — a makeshift launch plate, connected to an old cannon spring.
FOOMP.
Buchi shot skyward.
CRACK.
Right into a hanging log trap that smacked him midair.
He crashed to the ground, groaning.
And then silence.
Sham hung upside down, swaying, nose bleeding.
Usopp stood alone in the middle of his battlefield, slingshot lowered. Panting. Trembling. But alive.
Victorious.
A Few Minutes Later and Usopp was dragging Sham and Buchi's unconscious forms into a pit and covered the entrance with branches. They weren't dead. But they weren't waking up any time soon either.
He dusted off his hands before turning back to the forest.
"Alright now for the rest of them."
The next couple of minutes are going to be full.